A Bad Beat
by huntergirl727
Summary: Dean's deal with the demon didn't go the way he'd planned.  Not only didn't he get 10 years as he thought, the demon demanded his life on the spot.  Please review...I love reviews...
1. Chapter 1

_What would have happened if the Red Eyed Demon had made a different deal with Dean, instead of giving him a year, demanding his life as payment right then and there? Disclaimer: The Winchesters and all affiliated characters are property of Warner Brothers/Kripke Ent. & Co., not me. This is not for profit. Some dialogue was taken word for word from episode 2.22. Thanks to my dad, who provided first hand car knowledge based on his own 1966 Impala._

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Dean Winchester stood in the middle of the crossroads, waiting for that Red Eyed bitch to show up and make the deal to get Sam back. Dean had been as close to catatonic as a walking man can be in the two days since Sam got killed. He blamed himself for everything that had happened, and since life wasn't worth living without his brother, he had decided to make a deal with a devil to get Sammy back, in exchange for his life. At least he would be able to spend the next ten years of his life with his little brother alive before his bill came due; a deal sealed with a kiss.

"Come on already." Dean said quietly to himself, he'd been waiting only a few seconds, but his patience for such things had grown very thin in recent days. "Show your face, you bitch!!!" Dean yelled impatiently to the darkness.

Then, from behind him, in a silky smooth, glassy calm voice came, "Easy, Sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."

Dean turned and saw the pretty woman with black hair dressed in a provocative black gown with glowing red eyes standing provocatively behind him. He couldn't help but let a sneer of disgust curl his lip.

"Dean," she said almost lovingly, a sadistic grin on her face. "It is so, _so_ good to see you." Inhaling, she advanced on him. "No, I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your family killed, all alone in the world. Heh, it's too sweet."

Dean simply looked on her with disgust, he knew she was just taunting him, but he needed her. And, after all the demons Dean and his family had vanquished, he wouldn't rightfully expect her to be cordial.

She put her mouth close to his ear and continued her mockery. "Excuse me, you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses."

"I should send you straight back to Hell." Dean barked, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

She inhaled seductively, "Oooh, you should -- but you won't." She walked off a little behind him. "And I know why."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, facing him, like the eight-grade teacher's pet about to give an answer none of the other students knew, and proud of it. "Following in Daddy's footsteps, you want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and -- let me guess -- you're offering up your own soul?"

"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it." Dean knew he wasn't very popular in her world, and hoped it would give him some leverage.

She bit back a laugh, though her eyes betrayed that she knew he was right.

He continued, "And it's all yours, all you gotta do is bring Sam back. You give me ten years...ten years, and then you come for me." He knew the desperation he felt was making his voice waver, but he didn't care and couldn't help it anyway.

As soon as Dean had said 'ten years', the woman in black looked incredulous, and as soon as the last word was off his lips, she said "You must be joking."

Silence hung in the air for the briefest of moments, and then a disbelieving Dean said "That's the same deal you give everybody else...?"

"You're not 'everybody else'." The demon immediately retorted. Dean looked like a lost puppy as soon as she said it, but she did not let up her assault. She advanced on him again, and whispered in his ear, "Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul; it's too tarnished anyway."

Dean didn't look her in the eye as thoughts coursed through his mind. _Shit,_ he thought. He knew it had been a possibility his reputation would require a few years to be knocked off the deal, and though he didn't care to agree to this, life without Sammy was too unbearable to conceive. He nodded in understanding, and said "Nine years?"

"No." She spat back, stepping away.

"Eight?" He said, frustrated.

She laughed, toying with him. "You keep going, I'll keep saying no."

Dean took a deep breath. This didn't look good. "Okay, five years. Five years, and my bill comes due. That's my last offer. Five years, or no deal." He said resolutely.

The demon smiled again in her wicked, sadistic way, and walked in close to his face again. Leaning in as close as a kiss, she brushed the side of his mouth with her tongue as she formed the words "Then no deal."

He did not pull away. He simply glared down at her horrible visage mere centimeters from his face. "Fine." He said gruffly.

"Fine," she said in a mirrored response. She grinned her Cheshire Cat grin and began to walk away. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinkin' up the joint."

Crushed, Dean closed his eyes and fought back tears. _Don't let her walk away, stupid! She's your only hope!_ He heard his own gravelly voice calling before he knew what was happening, "Wait!"

She stopped, and whispered jokingly to herself, "It's a fire sale, and everything _must go._" She turned.

"What do I have to do?" Dean's voice was pathetic and tired. She could tell, he was willing to pay any price she asked.

She turned and walked back to him. "First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turn off." She paused, and exhaled, thinking of her options. "Look. Look, I shouldn't be doing this, I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I've got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a...puppy; you're just too fun to play with." She paused for effect. "I'll do it."

"You'll bring him back?" Dean wanted to make sure he had understood her correctly.

"I will." She turned and looked away, knowing she might be pushing the deal too far. "But here's the thing. It's my head if they find out I let a Winchester out of Hell, so for me to bring him back, your bill is due upon receipt."

"What?" Dean was incredulous. "Now you must be joking. That's not a deal--"

"Well, if the answer's 'no'..." She turned and walked back toward the way she had come.

Dean watched the evil incarnate walk away for a few seconds, knowing that even though it was a terrible deal, it was the only one he would ever get, and if he let her get away now, he doubted she would answer his hails later. Not to mention, 'later' would be too late for Sammy.

_That's my job, right, look after my pain in the ass little brother?_ Dean thought, as he remembered trying to comfort his dying baby brother two days earlier. He couldn't bear the thought that he had failed the only person in the world that he loved.

"Fine!" he shouted over his shoulder toward the woman in black.

She turned slowly, Cheshire cat grin back in it's place. "I knew you had it in you--"

"But," Dean cut her off this time, "I have to see him alive."

"No," she said flatly. "Just as the last time I saw you, my word is my bond. And besides, I'm off my quota this month. He'll be alive before your cold rotting meat hits the ground. That's the only offer you'll get. So do we have a deal?"

Dean looked at the ground with his jaw clenched for a moment. He'd been willing to give his life for Sammy's in a heartbeat for as long as he could remember, and this was no different. He was just taking stock of his surroundings; the cool night air, the chirping of the crickets, the smell of the wild lilacs nearby, the sound of a train in the distance, and how his Impala looked. He wished briefly that it had been daylight, so he could see her gleaming the sun one last time before he died...the moon seemed to be mocking him, as it was not out either.

"Tick tock." The woman's voice broke into Dean's thoughts.

He jerked his head towards her, glaring. "I swear to God, if you are lying to me, I _will_ crawl out of Hell itself to kill you."

She sneered, "Now, now, Dean. Gift horses, and all that." She then cleared the distance between them and positioned her face directly in front of his, then asked impatiently, "Do we have a deal?"

Dean looked at her for a few seconds, then leaned in and kissed her forcefully.

As the seal between their lips broke, Dean felt a searing pain in his chest, which moved to his head as he fell to his knees. Unable to even scream because of the severity of his anguish, all Dean could do was watch the dark of night turn in to the pitch black of eternity around him. _I love you, Sammy_, was the last thing he thought before he sank into oblivion.

The woman in black watched the handsome young man crumple to the ground dead with no compassion whatsoever. As the last gargle of life escaped the body before her, she turned away, disappearing into the night with the sadistic smile still playing on her lips, leaving Dean's body lying unceremoniously in the center of the crossroad in the middle of nowhere.

Dean Winchester was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester was alive.

He awoke, in a strange house he had never seen before, to more pain than he could have ever imagined. He sat up gingerly on the bed, trying to get his bearings. As his hand slipped under his back for support, he noticed the large wet spot directly beneath him. Sam worked his way to the edge of the bed and climbed off, standing in a hunched position; the excruciating pain in his back not allowing for any swift movements. Turning to look upon the bed, he saw that the wet spot was actually massive amounts of blood -- his blood.

Sam knew he didn't remember everything that had happened, but he did remember seeing Dean and Bobby walking toward him in Cold Oak, SD, after he had gotten into a fight with Jake, one of the other children the Yellow Eyed Demon had influenced, and knocked his opponent out. He remembered Dean running toward him as a white-hot pain shot through his body, and then all went dark.

He walked over to the mirror hanging on one wall in the small room. He pulled up the back of his shirt and looked at the source of the pain. What he saw appeared to be a bloody scar, but he couldn't remember ever getting cut there badly enough to render a scar that large. And judging from the bloody hole in his favorite shirt, the scar may be more recent than it appeared.

Sam pulled his shirt back down and looked around the small abode. No one else was there now, but he saw one of Dean's flannel shirts tossed over a chair in the corner, so he figured at least he was back with the good guys now.

But where were they? He picked up his coat which had dropped from the bed to the floor, and searched the pockets for his cell phone. He dialed Dean. It rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. Sam heard his big brother's gruff voice proclaiming that if a message was left he would get back to them as soon as possible.

"Dean, hey, it's me. I just woke up, I don't know where you guys are, but get back here as soon as you can, okay?" Sam's voice had cracked a little as he was talking, his throat felt like he'd gotten a French kiss from a sandpaper factory.

When he hung up the phone, he had a pit in his stomach that told him something was wrong, but he just didn't know what yet. Instinct told him he needed to start figuring it out, the sooner the better.

_Think, Sam, think!_ He felt as though he was mentally trudging through mud. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. _Bobby!_

He picked his cell phone back up and dialed Bobby's number. After two rings, Bobby answered.

"Hullo?" came the answer in a Southern Drawl.

"Bobby, hey, it's me."

"_Who_ is this?" Bobby said.

Sam was a little taken aback by the icy tone he was getting. "Bobby, it's me, Sam."

"_Sa--?_" Bobby stopped, breathless.

"Bobby, what's going on?? Where's Dean?" Sam's heart was racing, he knew for sure now that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Bobby didn't answer for a few seconds. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. Sam where are you?"

Sam looked around taking in his surroundings for anything descriptive enough to help Bobby. "I don't know, I just woke up a little while ago. I'm in a house, looks like it's in the country, I was lying on a bed. Looks like Dean was here not too long ago. There's a couple of his shirts here, a chair facing the bed, and a bucket of fried chicken on the table--"

"Stay where you are, Sam, I'm on my way to you. It'll be a couple hours, but I'll get there as soon as I can. STAY PUT."

Sam started to say "Yes, sir" but the line went dead before he even got the first word out.

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Two and a half hours later, Bobby's tow truck pulled into the driveway of the little rundown house. Sam walked out to meet him, and as Bobby piled out of the truck, he pulled Sam into a tight hug.

"Ow!" Sam complained after a few seconds, his body still reeling from what had happened to him. "Bobby, what's going on? Where's Dean? I've called his phone, like, 20 times and he hasn't answered."

Bobby slowly released his grip on Sam, and pulled back with tears in his eyes. "Get in the truck, Sam, I'll tell you on the way."

A bit dumbfounded by Bobby's statement and how shaken Bobby seemed to be, Sam didn't argue, he just climbed into the passenger side of the tow truck.

As soon as Bobby slammed his own door shut, he reached under the seat and pulled out a clean shirt. "Here, put this on. We don't need anybody asking questions about all that blood on your back."

"Bobby, where are we going??" Sam's curiosity could no longer be ignored, and he could his blood pressure was skyrocketing as his heart was pounding, worried about his brother.

Bobby pulled out of the driveway, and looked away from Sam as he wiped his face with his hand again. Sam could see that his face was wet when he finally turned back to him. "Sam, I don't know all of what is going on. But I do know that when I left Dean yesterday, you were dead."

"What?" Sam stared at the floorboard of the old beat up truck, his heart pounding even faster as all the pieces started to fall into place. "No, no. No. No. He wouldn't have..." Tears welled up in his own eyes.

Bobby shook his head, a glassy stare of disbelief on his face. "I didn't think he'd do something like that either. I thought he'd had his fill of demons, but on my way over here, I caught a call on the police scanner. It was talking about a man found at the intersection of County Road 19 and Old Prospect Road--" Bobby choked on his words briefly. "He was dead, Sam."

Sam shook his head, swallowing hard, his lower lip quivering slightly. He knew. Deep down, he knew. It was Dean. He knew it was a crossroads, and were anyone to dig directly in the center of the intersection they would find a little tin box with a few odds and ends that served as the means to contact the deal making demon. And in that box, would be Dean's photograph.

Interrupting Sam's thoughts, Bobby said "We need to get there and claim the car before they start snooping around in that trunk."

Sam nodded, a tear streaming down his cheek. He couldn't believe what was going on. This had to be a horrible dream.


	3. Chapter 3

They pulled up to the corner of CR 19 and Old Prospect and saw the area taped off with crime scene tape. There was a sheet covering a spot in the middle of the intersection, Sam could tell that there was a body under that sheet. And because he saw the Impala a few yards away, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was Dean under that sheet, and his heart felt like it was going to shrivel to the size of a raisin.

As the truck came to a halt, Sam climbed out and walked toward the taped off area. Still not in the best condition, he sank to his knees as a gentle breeze blew back the edge of the cloth to reveal Dean's boot.

An EMT came over to Sam, but he waived her off. She walked over to an officer and pointed Sam out to him.

"Can I help you, son?"

Sam looked up with a wet face. "He's--"

"He's new." Bobby jumped in before Sam could say something incriminating. Sam was still wanted in several states and hunted by the FBI after their escape from prison. Since they did not know how much these officers knew, it was better not to let them know he was Dean Winchester's illustrious brother. "We're the tow truck you called. The boy's never seen a crime scene before. Tom, why don't you go back and sit in the truck, I'll handle this one."

The old rotund sheriff laughed a belly laugh, "Well, you'll have to get over that, son, if you intend to last in this business." He turned back to Bobby. "Car's over there," he pointed to the Impala.

Bobby nodded and headed over to the car with the old sheriff. "Wow, will you look at that. I haven't seen a car like that in years. What do you say, mint condition?" He asked, leaning in the driver's window, feigning interest in the dials and gadgets. Really he was trying to find any ID's that may give him a clue as to what identification Dean had on his person.

"Looks like it," the sheriff said. "But that's not the strangest thing about this car." He walked around to the trunk and pulled open the lid that had just been down, not latched. "Trunk was open when we got here, so we took a gander inside. 'Ts filled with all sorts of weird stuff. Looks like this guy could'a been a serial killer or something. Whole bunch of satanic mumbo jumbo in a couple of books in there, too."

Bobby scratched his head, apparently the boys didn't invent lying to the cops, because he was very adept at this. "Damn," he said as though what the sheriff had just said were completely foreign to him. He picked up Dean's favorite hunting knife from the open trunk as if to admire it, but as he did the sheriff grabbed it out of his hand.

"Sorry," The old man said as he placed the knife back in it's place in the trunk arsenal. "It is still a crime scene."

"Nope, I should'a known better." Bobby conceded. He stepped back from the car as the sheriff closed the trunk. "Where you want her taken?"

"The impound lot just outside of Hitchcock. Just take her there and they'll handle the rest."

Bobby stuck out his hand to shake the sheriff's. "Alright, you'll be gettin' our bill." As the sheriff walked away Bobby walked back to his truck.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said.

Bobby looked at Sam's pathetic form and shook his head. "Anytime. You've gotta be careful now. You're not a team anymore, and right now that body lying out there is working against you. They're gonna find out things about him that are going to get you in a lot of trouble, depending on what you tell them. Let's just get the car outta here and we'll figure out how to get Dean back later."

Sam looked at Bobby with a look of protest on his face. "I can't leave him, Bobby. They're gonna dissect him!"

"Sam! Think about this! There are too many people here right now. We'll have to bust him out of the morgue later." Bobby was trying to focus on lining the truck up to tow the Impala without drawing attention to themselves, and arguing with Sam was not helping. "Now, stay in here, I'm gonna hook up the car."


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby had expertly towed the Impala away from the crime scene and back to the little house they had holed up at, stopping only briefly about three miles away from the cops to peel the magnetic signs proclaiming "Dunraven Towing" off the doors of the truck. Since Dunraven was a completely fictional company, removing the signs would prevent the cops from showing up at their doorstep when they realized the car didn't get taken to the Hitchcock lot. Bobby dropped Sam and the car off, then went back home to trade out vehicles. If he and Sam were to 'rescue' Dean that night, they needed a vehicle that wasn't already on the radar.

Sam had been sitting in the Impala ever since Bobby left. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" He asked the thin air as he ran his hand along the steering wheel. He turned the ignition key counterclockwise and turned on the radio, Dean's Metallica tape started playing _Enter Sandman_. Sam chuckled. "You always loved this song." He took another swig from the half gone bottle of whiskey he found in the house.

He slid down in the seat and laid his head against the back, his knees bumping the dashboard. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the trips he and his brother had taken in that car, the hundreds of hours logged behind that wheel. He knew that Dean was reckless and a little crazy sometimes, but he never thought he would have taken that deal for his own life. "What the hell, Dean! God damnit!! Why? WHY??" Sam hit the steering wheel hard with both hands. "It should have been me!!! Damnit Dean! You hypocrite--!!!" Tears were falling quickly from his eyes now as he threw a tape case at the dash forcefully.

"Oh, God--" He said as he realized that he had just obliterated Dean's 'Fire Of Unknown Origin' cassette. He started picking it up and cradling the pieces in his large, shaking hands. "Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry." Sam spoke as though Dean were there with him, chastising him for busting one of his favorite tapes, and possibly harming the Impala's dash; the magnetic tape for the song _Vengeance_ stringing out of the busted casing.

Sam sat in the Impala, crying and yelling, and finally sleeping off his drunkenness until Bobby returned several hours later. Sam awoke as Bobby pulled into the driveway. This time Bobby was driving a busted up minivan, similar to the one the boys had once borrowed, but he was not alone.

"Ellen?" Sam called, as he hauled his large frame up out of the Impala.

Bobby piled out of the van and Ellen out of the passenger side. She walked right up to Sam and gave him a hug. "Sam, I'm so sorry about Dean."

What do you say when someone tells you that? Not knowing anything better, Sam simply said "Thanks." He sniffled, and then said "What are you doing here?"

Ellen pulled back from the hug. "Bobby didn't tell you?" She wiped a tear from her cheek. At Sam's shake of the head, she continued. "It's been a bad day for all of us. The Roadhouse burned to the ground. Ash was inside, along with a whole bunch of hunters. We think it was the Demon."

"Oh, God." Sam said quietly. "I'm sorry. How did you get out?"

She chuckled at the irony. "I was out getting pretzels, of all things. Ash called and said something about the safe, then the call cut out and when I got back the building was completely gone. I headed for Bobby's as soon as I could."

They followed Bobby into the small house and sat down at the table. Bobby had brought some food for Sam, and as he pulled a piece of pizza onto a paper towel Sam asked, "So the safe was destroyed?"

Ellen looked down for a few seconds shaking her head slowly. Then pulled her jacket back and reached into the inside pocket. "Nope. This is what I salvaged." She laid a map of south-western Wyoming on the table, with five X's marked in a circle.

Sam picked up the map and looked at it, then up at Ellen and Bobby. "And we don't know what it means?"

Bobby shook his head. "Before you called this morning I found a bunch of signs. Lightning storms, cattle deaths and such. They were all circling the same area, but I haven't found yet why." He took the map from Sam and shook his head as he looked at it. "I picked up the books when I went home, help me lug 'em in from the van?"

Sam nodded, standing. "Yeah, sure."

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Hours later, Bobby stood from the chair he'd been reading in. "I don't believe it!"

"What is it?" Sam and Ellen said almost in unison.

Bobby threw the book he was reading onto the table, open to a page with a diagram. He pulled Ellen's map toward him and drew a permanent marker from his pocket. "These five X's...They're old frontier churches built by Samuel Colt."

"Samuel Colt?" Sam said confused.

"Yep," Bobby nodded. "The very same Colt who made that demon-killing gun you boys had." He paused, and Sam swallowed hard. "And, he had private railway lines built between each of the churches that just happen to lay out like this." He took the marker and drew a pentagram on the map, with a point at each X, making a perfect five-point star.

Ellen covered her mouth with her hand, "Oh, my...It's a Devil's Trap?"

Sam leaned over the page. "Yep, a hundred-square-mile Devil's Trap. And its still in one piece, too. That's why the demons are circling the area, but can't get into the middle."

"So was Colt trying to keep something out...or keep something in?" Ellen asked.

"Looks like the demons are trying to get in, so there must be something real important in there they want real bad and can't get to." Bobby said.

Sam stood straight immediately, like he'd been poked with a pin. "No, but I know who can. Jake." He could feel his blood pressure rise as he said the name of the man he knew to have killed him.

Ellen picked up the book she had been reading. "Look at this," she threw it on top of Bobby's book on the table. "There is an old cemetery smack in the middle of that trap. Do you think that's what they're trying to get at?"

Bobby nodded. "Must be, there's nothing else there."

"We have to get there and stop Jake." Sam said resolutely. "But I'm _not_ leaving Dean here."

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**_Sorry guys - off to Texas for the weekend, Chapter 5 will be up Tuesday 06/26._**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was being held in the morgue in downtown Hitchcock. Bobby had sent Sam on to Wyoming, assuring him that he would follow shortly with Dean's body, that he would do everything in his power to retreive Dean before an autopsy was done; he seemed to grasp the fact that Sam was the only one of them capable of stopping Jake.

Ellen stayed to help Bobby, as bodies are known to take more than one person to lift, especially when you are trying to be gentle and respectful to the dead...which doesn't always happen in their line of work.

"So are we going to con the guard into letting us in," Ellen asked as she climbed into the passenger seat of the van, "Or are we just breaking in?"

"Feel like putting on a lab coat?" Bobby said as he put the van in gear and pulled away from the shack.

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Ellen walked into the morgue with a lab coat and clipboard, the look made all that more official by her wardrobe choice of buttondown blouse and knee-length skirt with heels. She was not all that excited about the apparel, but she knew that she would be all the more convincing because of it, and this was important. Her friend Dean was in there.

Ellen did not have anything against autopsies, personally, but she knew well enough not to argue with Sam about any subject pertaining to his deceased brother, the only family the poor boy had.

She walked up to the man sitting at the desk in the small town's coroner's office. Seeing that his nametag said J. Ferris, she took a stab. "John?"

The young man stood and corrected her politely, "James. My friends call me Jimmy."

She stuck out her hand to shake his, "Sorry 'bout that. I'm new, they haven't even given me my nametag yet. 'm Dana." She released his hand and looked around the small, cold office. "So how'd you get stuck on graveyard shift?"

Jimmy sat back behind his small desk with a pile of paperwork still to be completed. "I'm new too. It's my second day. I just graduated Friday, and my dad made me get a job. This is what I got stuck with." He confessed with a shy, but disgusted, look on his face. He shook his head as he flipped through the papers on his desk.

Ellen could tell this kid was self involved and wouldn't ask too many questions because he didn't really care about anybody else's life, which made him fairly gullible. _Oh, the lessons that come with age,_ Ellen thought.

Jimmy continued, "They keep telling me that this town doesn't see much work for a coroner, but, man, we've had four in two days."

"Four? I was under the impression that there was only one...??" Ellen sat in the sterile looking chair across from Jimmy.

Jimmy leaned back in his own chair. "Yeah, it was the weirdest thing. Some local kids were out at that old abandonned town down the road tagging the place, you know." He pantomimed using a spraypaint can. "They found a dead girl just at the edge of town and called the cops, then when the cops got there they checked the buildings and found another girl and a guy dead."

"They say what killed 'em?" She put a touch of worry in her voice as she added "Did they drink the kool-aid, or is there a serial killer on the loose?"

"They didn't say much to me; I'm supposed to transpose the recordings they did when they did their autopsies, but I haven't gotten to these yet. Too much other shit to do." He shrugged and pointed again to the pile of paperwork on his desk.

Ellen flipped through the chart on her clipboard. "What about this last guy, the one they found this morning?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes, it was obvious this was not his idea of a career job. "Oh, that guy? Yeah, they said it looks like a stroke. Like, he had it while he was driving and got out and stumbled into the intersection."

"No kiddin'?" She chuckled. "He's kinda young for a stroke, though, isn't he? Says here 'John Doe, approximately early 30's'." She mentally wiped her brow, as the use of the John Doe moniker indicated they didn't figure out who Dean was, or what he was wanted for.

"I don't know. How old are people when they usually get strokes?" He asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "They haven't done the autopsy on that guy yet."

Another mental brow wipe for Ellen. "Huh." She stood, "Well, I don't know about you, but I've been smoking for thirty years and if I go without one for too long...well, it's not pretty. Care to join me?"

Jimmy looked around as if to see if anyone was looking. "Yeah, totally." Then leaned in conspiratorilly, "Don't tell my dad though, dude, he'd kill me."

"Lead the way." Ellen smiled, and followed him to the back alley doorway.

Leaning against the building, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her lab coat pocket and handed one to Jimmy, lighting his before pulling one for herself. Jimmy puffed away on his cigarette, while Ellen looked on, cigarette unlit.

"So what are you going to study in college, Jimmy?" She asked, trying to distract him from noticing her cigarette.

Jimmy took another drag on his, then as smoke seeped out between his words, he said, "I don't want to even go. My dad is forcing me. I figure I'll just go for the parties, he's paying for it."

Ellen chuckled and put the unlit cigarette to her lips, "Yeah, he'll pay for it in more ways than one, huh?"

Then it happened. Jimmy laughed, then faltered. He lurched forward a bit, then looked back at Ellen with a betrayed look on his face. The laced cigarette was having it's intended affect, and a few short seconds later, Jimmy toppled over, face down on the asphalt, as Ellen took her cell from her pocket and dialed Bobby to pull around to the alley.

Ellen tucked the cigarettes back in her pockets, pulled out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. Since the only other object her fingers had touched since she entered the building was the clipboard, which she planned to take with her, it would make clean up for this con pretty simple.

Bobby rounded the corner in the van, and when he came to a stop jumped out and helped Ellen lift Jimmy's limp form back into the morgue. Once inside, they searched the lockers until they came to Dean's.

Now it was Bobby who faltered. He pulled the trey out of the refrigerated locker and stopped, looking into Dean's face. "Oh, Dean. You stupid ass." He said, his eyes welling with tears.

Ellen shook her head and swallowed, her eyes filling too. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Bobby, we gotta go."

Bobby wiped his face and cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah." He moved around to the head of the trey. "I'll take his head, you grab his feet, okay?"

"Got it."

Bobby propped Dean up, using his own body to work him into a sitting position, then grabbed him around the waist and lifted him gently off the table, with Ellen mirroring his lifting at Dean's feet. Slowly they made their way to the minivan, and loaded Dean into the back. Bobby had had the foresight to take the removeable seats out back at his junkyard, so laying Dean inside was made fairly easy. They placed a pillow under his head, and covered his naked body with a blanket, which made him look much like he was car camping, and surprisingly peaceful.

As Bobby got behind the wheel and closed his door, he muttered to himself, "Hang on, Sam."


	6. Chapter 6

The Impala sat quietly hidden in the bushes just outside of a small dark cemetery. Sam had gotten there only a short time before, driving like a bat out of hell all afternoon to try to beat Jake there. Bobby had sent him on, in hopes that he would be able to deal with Jake by himself. Sam's stomach did a little dance when he realized that 'all by himself' was really that..._all by himself._ Forever.

He had spent so much time during his life trying to be independent. To get away from the constraints others had placed upon him, to get away from his family. He had enjoyed his time alone, doing what he wanted to do, having a 'normal' life. But then his family needed him. His brother needed him, and he had answered the call.

Sam and Dean had spent almost every hour of every day for the last two years together. At first, searching for their father, John, who was in turn searching for the Yellow Eyed Demon, who had killed Sam and Dean's mother. And then trying to put their lives back together after John passed away, under very questionable circumstances. Before and after their father's death, they had dedicated themselves to saving people, hunting things. The family business.

They came as close as ever to killing the Yellow Eyed Demon last year. The Demon had kidnapped John in effort to secure a gun made by Samuel Colt, which was in the Winchester's possession. The Colt, manufactured on the same night as the massacre at The Alamo, was the only gun capable of killing the Demon, and therefore very valuable to both sides. Sam had the opportunity to kill the Demon, but didn't, since doing so would have meant shooting his own father in the heart. They had been pretty beat up after that encounter, and on the way to the hospital the Demon tried to end his dealings with them permanently, by running a semi-tractor-trailer into the Impala at 70 mph. John and Sam had survived the crash fairly well, but between what the Demon did to him and the crash, Dean had almost died. The boys still didn't have all the facts about what happened, but Dean miraculously recovered and a few minutes later John was dead and the Colt was gone. Their best educated guess was that John had made a deal with the Demon to save Dean's life in exchange for his own. Dean had been so pissed, and had said himself "What's dead should stay dead".

The last year had been hard, trying to figure it all out again with their dad gone. Almost losing Dean had been terrible, and when John died, it made Sam truly realize how much he needed, wanted, his brother. Dean had always been there for him, without fail; he called it his 'job'.

Sam's eyes watered as he thought again about his big brother, and his jaw clenched when he thought about what a hypocrite Dean had been, bringing him back from the dead. He rubbed his head and said quietly "Jerk," immediately frustrated that Dean wasn't there to answer with a flippant 'bitch' comment.

_Don't, Sam. Don't be mad at Dean. _He told himself. _Dean did it because he loved you. Stay focused. _He crouched behind a large headstone inside the cemetery, .45 drawn and loaded.

Not three minutes later, he heard the large iron gate swing open slowly. Anger flooded through Sam's veins as he recalled Jake's place in all this; in Sam's death, and ultimately in Dean's. As Sam squeezed the grip on his pistol tighter, he couldn't fathom letting him live for his crimes.

Patiently he waited, the seconds dragged on as he could sense Jake coming closer.

Soon, he saw Jake walking toward the large crypt in the center of the cemetery, and in his hand was no other than the Colt.

"Hold it right there." Sam said, standing and levelling his gun at Jake's head.

Jake turned quickly to see Sam, obviously startled, a look of recognition and then confusion on his face. "You can't be here, I killed you."

Sam shrugged, trying not to pull the trigger right then, his hate for the man before him contorting his face. "I came back, just to kill you."

"You couldn't do it before, you think you can now?" Jake shot back snidely. His eyes, cold and calculated, showed that he truly didn't believe that Sam was capable of murder.

"Things have changed. I've got nothin' to lose now." Sam cocked the action on his semi-automatic. "What'd you get sent here to do? What does the Demon want here?"

"He didn't tell me, man, he just told me to open this crypt." Jake motioned toward the large structure. "Said he'd kill my mom and little sister if I didn't, make them eat their own intestines or some messed up shit like that. I got no choice, man." He had turned to fully face Sam, his hands, one still holding the Colt, were palms up in a pleading motion. He had dropped the cocky attitude in response to Sam's actions.

"Oh, my heart is bleeding here. Really." Sam feigned wiping a tear away. He had no patience or compassion for the man who had brought on the death of his last living family member.

Jake shook his head, "You can't stop this." He rocked the upper part of his body toward the crypt, then back to face Sam. "_I_ can't stop this."

Sam clenched and unclenched his jaw again, "You had a choice. I offered you a way out, for us to work together." He narrowed his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly, "You _killed_ me instead."

"Sorry, man. I have to do this." He immediately turned, shoved the Colt into the crypt keyhole and twisted it.

Sam hesitated no longer; he emptied five rounds into Jake's back, then when Jake had fallen, Sam pumped three more rounds into his chest. The blood in Jake's lungs blew out of his mouth and onto Sam's face as he breathed his dying breath. Sam mentally cursed Jake, wiped the blood from his cheek and turned to focus his attention on the crypt.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam reached for the Colt and pulled it from it's metal sheath. The two circular sections surrounding the keyhole were now spinning very quickly. Sam stepped back unsure of what to expect. He tucked the Colt in the back of his pants and retrieved his .45 semi-automatic.

As he watched the doorway, he heard the rumble of a vehicle approaching. He turned to see a van pulling up directly in front of the main gate to the cemetery. Bobby and Ellen jumped out of the van just as the circular spinning sections of the lock ticked to a halt, sections aligning to form a perfect pentagram, a five point star.

Sam yelled "Did you get him??" at the exact same time that Bobby screamed "Sam, TAKE COVER!!!"

It sunk in, though. As the words left Bobby's lips, Sam dove behind the closest gravestone, just in time. Head over heels, he fell. Before his legs touched down, the crypt burst open, an evil cloud of billowing black smoke furiously pushed it's way out. Exploding outward, the cloud broke into wormlike fragments, jutting off in every imaginable direction.

"What is that?!?" Sam screamed over the cacophony the cloud seemed to be causing.

Ellen was crouching behind a headstone a few feet away, "That's a Devil's Gate! A damn door to Hell!" She stood, leaning into what seemed to be gale force winds. "We've got to close that gate!"

As soon as they were able, all three rushed from their hiding spots to try forcing the gate shut. As Bobby and Ellen reached the door, Sam hot on their heels, Sam was jerked backward through the air by some unseen force.

He landed on the ground, winded, but was not left there long. From somewhere unseen, the man with yellow eyes walked up to him, and as he raised his hand, Sam was lifted from the ground and brought to a standing position. His back was up against the only tree in the cemetery, and try as he might, he was not able to move any of his limbs or his head. The Colt dug into his back uncomfortably where his newest scar was.

"I'm proud of ya', Champ! I knew you had it in ya'." The Yellow Eyed man said. He came over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sam, partially facing him, with the air of an old farmer having a conversation about the weather with his neighbor.

Sam struggled to pull his head away from the tree, growling and panting frustratedly as he used all his might to try. "Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!"

The man pouted, mocking Sam. "Aww, now don't be like that. You and I are going to have a long, prosperous relationship." He turned and waived his hand at the Devil's Gate as if he were Vanna White showing a prize. "Our army is here, and now that you've killed Jake, it needs a commander."

Sam saw Bobby and Ellen continuing to struggle against the onslaught of Hell pouring from the gate.

"_Our_ army? I'll have no part in this!" Sam said, still struggling against his invisible bonds, unable even to reach the Colt which was mere inches from his hands.

The man looked condescendingly at his prisoner. "Oh, and what else are you going to be doing? Driving around on a road trip with your troglodyte brother? Oh, wait. I forgot. He's dead." He paced back and forth slowly in front of Sam, pretending to be thinking. "Oh, or fighting evil with your father? Oh, wait. He's dead too."

As he listened, Sam's hatred of the Yellow Eyed Demon shown through every muscle in his face, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter. But the Demon did not relent.

"Or going to dinner with your girlfriend and mommy?" He paused and looked Sam right in the eye. "No? Well, tell me, what exactly do you plan to do now that you're all alone in this big, bad world."

"I'm going to kill you." Sam tried to pull himself away from the tree again, in vain, to lash out at the man, snapping back to crack his head on the bark sharply.

The man jumped back mockingly and chuckled. "Oooh, I'm scared," he said as he showed Sam his hands shaking. "No, Sam. We're going to rule this world together, you and me. All this? This is just the beginning...beings more powerful than you could have ever imagined will be at your beck and call. All they need is a leader."

Sam followed the man's pacing with his eyes. "But why do you need me? If you are going to have all the power you ever wanted, why share it with me?"

The man stopped and looked at Sam straight. "Well, if you'd prefer I killed you..." He said, making a flicking motion with his hand.

Sam flinched, but nothing happened.

The Demon did not deter his gaze, he obviously hadn't intended to actually end Sam's life. He tilted his head a little and a smile bent the ends of his mouth up very slightly. "Truth be told, Sam, demons don't trust each other. And they don't work together all that well, either. I need someone on the outside, someone smart, and expertly trained...in all things 'demon'. Someone the army will view as _fair_." He paused, cocked his head, and squinted, almost in a wink. "I'll admit, I do need you. But I'll also tell you that if you don't want to be a part of this, I'll destroy you and everyone else you care about and move on to the next generation. They may not be as intuitive as you, but there is something to be said for compliance."

Sam looked to the ground, searching every crevasse of his mind for some way to get out of this. Something, _anything_, he had learned in his lifelong pursuit of this demon and all other evil. For the life of him, and the life his brother for that matter, he couldn't think of anything. _That's it,_ Sam thought, remembering Dean.

Still facing the ground, Sam raised only his eyes to meet the Demon. "If I do this, what do I get?" he said, his features cold with steely resolve.

"Well, if you play nice," the man strode back over to stand opposite Sam, "You'll be royalty. The entire world, and all the demons in it, will bow at your feet. Interested?"

"Not really." Sam looked from the man to the ground and back again. "Doesn't look like I have much of a choice. But, if I agree, you have to get your friend Red to bring Dean back."

The Yellow Eyed man cocked his head again. "You must have me confused with 'Red'. I don't make deals. You're mine. Like it or not."

Sam smirked, "Maybe so, but for how long?" A sly grin appeared on his face. "You said it yourself, all the demons in the world will be under my control, and they don't trust each other, but they'll trust me. With all that power, you really think I won't find a way to kill you soon?"

"Oh, gee." The man feigned fear. "Did you really think I hadn't thought of that, Sam? A little slower than I gave you credit for. Every demon, creature, and anything else that's in this army is loyal to _me_ above all. You try whatever you want to try, I guaranty, there will be hell to pay."

"Really?" Sam smirked again. "You mean to tell me that in all the years that you've been--is alive the right word?--you haven't created any enemies, not one single solitary transgression against another demon who would _jump_ at the chance to get back at you?"

The man stuck out his lips as though thinking about Sam's question. "Nope." He moved within spitting distance of Sam's face. "Not that I've never made enemies, but there would be more consequences for them than you could ever imagine. Demons don't die, Sam; their torture would be eternal. A fact of which they are fully aware."

He paused, shaking a finger at Sam. "However," he resumed pacing in front of Sam. "If you agree to never even attempt any sort of little...coup...I might be willing to pull some strings."

Sam's heart lept. He wanted to shout 'DEAL!!' right there, but he knew he had to play cool, or the Demon would suspect what his plan really was. "You know, there's just one problem." He said solemnly.

The Demon gave him an inquisitive look.

"I don't trust you." Sam spat.

The man rolled his eyes in a frustrated expression. "What? I've never lied to you, Sam. What do you want? One of those cliche contracts signed with blood?"

"Sam!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Sam!"

He heard his name before he knew what was happening. He saw Bobby and Ellen running toward them, having apparently succeeded in closing the gateway; he hadn't even noticed the rushing torrent had subsided. Then he saw Bobby flying through the air one direction and Ellen the other. Bobby landed hard and was knocked unconscious. Ellen landed hard too, but was being held at bay by the Yellow Eyed man similar to the way Sam was restrained.

The Yellow Eyed man looked at Sam and snickered, "You know, when you come over to the 'dark side', those people right there? They're gonna try to kill you. And you know what you're gonna do? You're gonna kill them first. I'm so glad I'm here for this; this is going to be better than television!!"

Sam shook his head, though it had little visible effect, as he was still bound to the tree. "I guess I'll have to take my chances. Either they kill me, or you do, right?"

"Very astute, Sam." The Demon moved a few steps away and leaned up against a table-heighth headstone, sticking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "Now. Shall we get this show on the road?"

"Dean first." Sam reiterated.

The Demon stared at Sam with his cold, yellow eyes. "Fine." As he said it, a woman in a long black gown and piercing red eyes materialized beside him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She said, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what she had been summoned for before anyone said a word to her. "He's mine, fair and square."

"To quote, Sammy here, it's a brave new world, sweetheart." The man with yellow eyes said, condescendingly. "_My_ world, and welcome to it."

She clenched her jaw, obviously very angry about what she was being forced to do. "Alright. It's done." She spun on her heel coming face to face with the man's yellow eyes. "But _you_ _owe me_."

She walked over to kiss Sam on the cheek. As she did, she whispered in his ear, "He's in the van. Make that bullet count."

The woman pulled back from Sam, disintegrating into thin air as she did so.

"Well, Champ, satisfied?" The Demon crossed his arms with a proud look on his face.

"Release me." Sam demanded, skirting the question.

Instantly, he was freed from his invisible bonds. He fell to his knees.

"Why don't we try out some of that newfound power of yours?" The Demon walked over and took Sam by the elbow. He moved him to a spot directly in front of the crypt. "Get that carcass out of here."

Sam looked at Jake's dead body lying on the ground. He moved forward and reached down to grab Jake's hand.

"No, Sam!" The Demon shouted. "The easy way."

-----------------

Dean opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "What the hell?" he mumbled, as he lifted up the blanket covering him, seeing that he was naked. "Holy... ...that must have been one wild night." He tried to remember exactly what had happened the night before, only remembering the weird nightmare he had been having about Sam dying.

He sat upward, his back screaming in agony as he realized the extent of his stiffness. Being almost 30, he had begun to feel the effects of his hard life when he laid flat for too long, but this was the worst his body had ever felt after a night of heavy drinking. He could only assume that he'd hooked up with some (hopefully) attractive young lady, judging from his lack of attire, and had an eventful, if apparently not memorable, evening.

Dean began to dig around the van for his missing clothes, but was unable to find them. "Shit. The bitch stole my stuff!" Unable even to find his cell phone, he knew he would need to find a pay phone to call Sam. He didn't know who's van it was, but it was going to have to do.

He wrapped the blanket around his waist and crawled into the driver's seat of the van. He didn't even look out the front winshield of the van, searching for the keys so he wouldn't have to hotwire the damn thing.

"No, Sam! The easy way." Dean hear the faint sound of his brother's name and immediately looked up.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered to himself. From his vantage point, he could see Sam staring at a body on the ground, in a cemetery that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There was another man with Sam who seemed to be giving him orders. Dean couldn't see the man's face, but from the expression on Sam's, nothing good was happening here.

_Your bill is due upon receipt..._ The memories started flooding back to Dean as he watched the scene unfold before him. "What the...?" He wondered what caused him to be brought back, immediately worried about Sam.

Dean tugged the handle on the door very slowly, opening it with as little noise as he could manage. He stepped out of the van, and crouched low near the front tire, looking around for anything he could possibly use to defend himself and his little brother. The Impala! He saw his beautiful black car parked about fifty yards away, behind a tree row overgrown with mulberry bushes. He was never so happy to see his car before in his life, love her though he did.

He decided, seeing that they were in the middle of nowhere, to drop the blanket and simply make a run for the car, but before he could start he glanced back at Sammy. The body that had been lying on the ground was now floating through the air. He cursed silently, knowing now that the man with Sam was no man at all. "Damn it, Sam."

He dropped the blanket and made a run for the car. Thankfully, the lack of air conditioning in the car had caused Sam to leave the windows down. Dean remembered that when they checked out of the motel before Sam disappeared he had just thrown his dirty laundry in the back seat. _God, that seems like years ago_. He thought, remembering how horrible the last few days had been, a little sad that it hadn't been a dream as he thought earlier.

He reached through the window and pulled out a dirty pair of jeans from the floorboard. Pulling them on, he wracked his brain trying to think of anything he could use to help Sam. Unfortunately, the only thing he knew of that would be useful against the Yellow Eyed Demon would be the Colt, which had disappeared when their father died.

Donning a tee shirt with a barbecue sauce stain on the front of it, Dean reached now through the front passenger window, opening the glove compartment. He drew his spare .45 from the cubby, thankful that it was still where he remembered it.

He looked up to check on Sam. There were a few trees blocking his view, but he could clearly see Sam making Bobby's limp form float through the air. His heart sunk a little, knowing that Bobby was at the least hurt, and possibly dead. Bobby had been very good to them. What had happened to him? Had Sam caused it?

Dean tried to read the expression on Sam's face. It seemed to be the same disgusted expression Dean saw him wear when he had been possessed by the demon they only knew as Meg. He couldn't tell, was Sam directing his disgust at Bobby, or the fact that he was doing the bidding of the Yellow Eyed Demon. Dean clenched his jaw, frustrated that he couldn't gleam more information from Sam's demeanor.

As he watched Sam, pistol drawn, he saw Sam walk over to Ellen, who seemed to be lying on the ground paralyzed.

"You won't be needing that," He heard Sam say snidely, as he knelt, taking the blued-steel revolver from Ellen's hand. Sam tucked the gun in the back of his jeans, but as he did it, he made sure the Yellow Eyed man didn't see him pull the Colt from the same spot and hand it back to Ellen. She tucked it up her sleeve in one swift move.

_The Colt?!?!_ Dean's mind reeled at the implications. Sam was giving Ellen the way to kill the Demon. _He can't do it himself, he's made a deal._

------------------

As Sam crouched near Ellen and surreptitiously handed the Colt to her, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

He saw the understanding in her eyes as he stood, backing a few feet away. He raised his hand, raising Ellen from the ground as he did so. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent a battered Ellen flying over the perimeter fence of the cemetery.

She landed right in front of the Impala.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ellen?" Dean whispered.

Ellen didn't move at first, but Dean could see that her eyes were open and that she was breathing very short, shallow breaths.

"Ellen," Dean called again. He peeked around the front bumper of the Impala to look at the cemetery to make sure no one was watching them. He crawled toward her a bit. "Hey. Hey hey hey." He whispered with a very concerned tone. Laying on his stomach he reached out to touch her hand, trying to give what comfort he could.

Ellen didn't move. "Shhhh..." Dean heard her say softly, her breathing had slowed. She reached into her right coatsleeve, drawing the Colt from it's hiding place and handing it to Dean. "Kill...that...bastard." She said with pained effort.

"Did Sam do this to you? Is he part of this?" Dean asked, his voice gruff.

She was starting to shiver from the shock, but Dean was able to recognize her shake of the head. "N-n-no," she said softly.

Relief flooded Dean's senses. He closed his eyes in silent gratefulness to whatever power that may be listening. "Hang on, Ellen," Dean said, squeezing her arm, resolve adding a steely quality to his voice. "We're gonna end this and then we'll get you and Bobby some help, okay?"

Moving silently toward the gate of the cemetery, he depressed the crane latch on the Colt, which allowed the cylinder to fold out so he could check if the gun was loaded, and which chamber the last remaining bullet was in. "Thank God," he muttered to himself, as he saw the bullet. As interesting as an antique gun may be, it was useless without being loaded.

He arranged the cylinder so the bullet would load when the hammer was cocked, then snapped it closed as quietly as he could. He looked through the fencing. Sam and the Demon were still on the far end of the cemetery from his current position. Dean knew he was a good shot, but even the higher powered handguns would have been pushing it to hit a target at that distance, and with only one chance he didn't want to risk it. He had to get closer.

He looked at the ground in the cemetery, trying to get a feel for if it would make much noise when tread on. Strangely, the grass seemed to be pressed down, unlike any unkempt prairie Dean had ever seen. Weird though it was, at least the short grass would not make as much noise as the knee-heighth stuff. He could only hope that Ol' Yellow Eyes wasn't as good at hearing people sneak up on him as his daughter was.

Sam was following the directions that the Demon was giving him, moving things telekinetically and various other menial tasks. It appeared to Dean that the Demon was trying to train Sam quickly, get him up to speed on latent powers he may have had. After watching Sam electrocute a raven the Yellow Eyed man had supplied, Dean was very glad Sam had been on his side all this time.

He snuck through the gate and hid behind the nearest large headstone. Peeking around the side he watched his little brother excel at each task as their arch nemesis looked on with a proud expression on his face. The scene turned Dean's stomach. Sammy had always been the teacher's pet, but this was beyond Dean's comprehension.

"Ha ha!" The Demon clapped his hands together victoriously. "Excellent, Sammy. I think we're done here. I've been looking forward to riding in that car of yours again." He turned and strode away from the crypt, walking right past the grave marker Dean was squatting behind. He called back over his shoulder. "Just one more thing. Bring the Colt."

Dean crawled back to the last stone he had hidden behind, this time crouching on the opposite side so as to be unseen from the Demon's new vantage point. He thanked the heavens silently that the darkness of night was at least in some part concealing his movements.

Without missing a beat, Sam went to the crypt and pretended to be looking for it. "It's not here," he called over his own shoulder, sounding convincingly confused. "Ellen or Bobby must have taken it."

The Demon turned on his heel only a dozen or so feet from Dean, the jubilant look gone from his visage. "Find it." He demanded sternly, eyes burning so into Sam that, if they had been capable, they would have killed Sam right there.

"It's right here." Dean stood and fired at the Demon before the last word had fallen.

The split second it took for the bullet to travel from gun to target was enough for Dean to see a myriad of expressions cross the Demon's face. Confusion to recognition, to shock, to anger, and finally dismay as the bullet punctured the chest of his human host. Right through the heart. Dean's one shot was perfect.

The man looked down at his chest. Something akin to electricity lit his body from the inside out. Sam and Dean stood in awe as the man's bones were visible through his skin. The man fell to the ground, lying flat on his back. The energy seemed to flicker out, as a whisp of black smoke leaked from the bullet hole, and the yellow glaze over his eyes disappeared.

The Yellow Eyed Demon was dead.

Dean turned around and looked at Sam, who smiled shyly. It was his little brother. Alive. Standing right there. And the Demon was dead. It was all too much to take in, especially for the newly resurrected. Dean blinked and fell to his knees.

"Dean!" Sam ran to try to catch his brother, not quite making it, but keeping him from falling any further than his knees. "Hey, are you okay?"

"We did it." Dean said, looking over at the body of the man who was once an unlucky hospital janitor. "Check that off the 'to do' list."

Sam looked at the body, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know what to say..."

"I do." Dean crawled over to look directly into the dead man's face. "That was for our mom, you son of a bitch."

As he stood, Dean guffawed, still trying to take it all in. "So, are we both alive, or are we dead?"

Sam chuckled, pulling Dean into the first hug he had shared with his brother in many years. "I think we're alive." Each squeezed the other tightly, like they were trying to confirm that he was real and neither of them were dreaming. "Dude, what the hell were you thinking? That was a shitty deal." Tears were streaming down Sam's cheeks.

Dean kept his grip on his brother, tears rolling down his own face. "Don't you be mad at me, Sammy. I had to look after you, that's my _job_."

Sam shoved Dean's shoulder hard, but playfully, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, not if it gets you killed. Got it?" He levelled Dean with a look of consternation.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean looked over Sam's shoulder, seeing Bobby lying on the ground. "Fuck!" How could he have forgotten? "We've got to get them to a hospital."

Ten minutes later, Sam and Dean had loaded Ellen and Bobby into the back of the Impala and were headed to Cheyenne to the hospital. Bobby had began to come around, though Sam checked his eyes with a pen light and he seemed to have some symptoms of a concussion, and Ellen seemed to be better as well. She was sitting in the back seat wrapped in a blanket, head down.

"I'm so sorry, Ellen." Sam apologized again, turned half around in the front seat so he could look at her. "I tried to put you down softly."

She didn't raise her head, but looked up at Sam silently for a moment. Then she shook he head slightly and gave a small shrug. "I know, honey."

Dean glanced up at the rear view mirror, then back at the road. "How many demons you think got outta hell?"

Sam shrugged, "A hundred, maybe two. An army."

Dean nodded, sticking his lips out a bit. "Well, then," he said, reaching for the radio, "We've got work to do." He turned the power knob and AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_ blared from the speakers.

Dean floored the gas petal and the four hunters drove east into the rising sun.

-------------------------------------------------------

**EPILOGUE**

Three days later, Dean and Sam drove away from Bobby's home in SD. The doctors in Cheyenne had taken good care of Bobby and Ellen, and released them with a clean bill of health, but told them both to take it easy for a few days.

Dean put on his sunglasses as he turned the Impala onto the on-ramp for the interstate. He reached under the front seat and pulled out the ancient box of even more ancient casette tapes and started shuffling through them.

Sam was reading through his email on his Palm Treo when Dean slammed on his breaks and quickly pulled off to the right side of the road.

"Dude," Dean looked sternly at Sam, using his most John-like tone. "Where the hell is my B.O.C. tape?"

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He was searching for a good story, but wasn't able to come up with one. He closed his mouth and settled on a shake of the head and a quizzical look on his face.

Dean clenched his jaw, dissatisfied, then leaned into the floorboard to search in case the tape had gotten bumped out of the box. He sat back upright emptyhanded, scratching his head, and glanced at the dash. His hand went immediately to the small cut in the vinyl, trying to sooth it away as if it were an illusion of the early morning sun.

"And what the HELL did you do to my dash?"

_Fine_

_-----------------------_

I hope you all liked it, thank you for reading my story. I know the ending was a bit cheesy, but it was harder to wrap everything up like I wanted than I had expected, and I still didn't figure out how to fit John in.

Ah, perhaps there is a story in the future for his now-freed spirit...

Also, sorry for any spelling errors in the last chapter, I was working without spellcheck.


	10. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Three days later, Dean and Sam drove away from Bobby's home in SD. The doctors in Cheyenne had taken good care of Bobby and Ellen, and released them with a clean bill of health, but told them both to take it easy for a few days.

Dean put on his sunglasses as he turned the Impala onto the on-ramp for the interstate. He was so glad for the past few days to be over, to get back out on hte open road, and track down all the hell-spawn that escaped in Wyoming.

He reached under the front seat and pulled out the ancient box of even more ancient casette tapes and started shuffling through them.

Sam was reading through his email on his Palm Treo when Dean slammed on his breaks and quickly pulled off to the right side of the road.

"Dude," Dean looked sternly at Sam, using his most John-like tone. "Where the hell is my B.O.C. tape?"

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He was searching for a good story, but wasn't able to come up with one. He closed his mouth and settled on a shake of the head and a quizzical look on his face.

Dean clenched his jaw, dissatisfied, then leaned into the floorboard to search in case the tape had gotten bumped out of the box. He sat back upright emptyhanded, scratching his head, and glanced at the dash. His hand went immediately to the small cut in the vinyl, trying to sooth it away as if it were an illusion of the early morning sun.

"And what the HELL did you do to my dash?"

_Fine_


End file.
